


Enchilada Night

by CharlesLamont



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Achievement Hunter Heists, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Language, Some domestic fluff, enchiladas, of course there's language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 17:44:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11468514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlesLamont/pseuds/CharlesLamont
Summary: The Crew learns something about their resident psychopath





	Enchilada Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flamemoon18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamemoon18/gifts).



> A/N: I do not own these persons, personaes, or the setting of Los Santos and the extended GTA universe.

Enchilada Heist

“Hi dear.”

Michael paused, looking up from his current battle in _Omega Ruby_ , his eyes slowly sliding to the left to glance at his companion. Ryan was on the phone, leaning against the door with his right hand drumming on the steering wheel, nodding and making ‘uhuh’ sounds. The lad’s face scrunched up, processing what he was hearing, head tilting slightly.

“Yes dear. A gallon of milk, yes dear. Of course dear, chicken for tomorrow night. Yes dear. Uhuh.”

Across the street, at the de Koch Diamond store, Jack was leaning against a lamp post, in her requisite Hawaiian shirt and shorts (ostentatious clothes were proven to make faces less memorable, she argued). The auburn woman glanced over, and then back into the store, waiting to give the sign.

“Okay dear, I love you. Bye.” Ryan hung up the phone, slipping it into his leather jacket and reaching down for his black skull mask.

“Ryan.” Michael snapped his DS shut, slipping it into his brown coat. “What the fuck was that?”

“Hmm? Oh, wife called and wanted me to pick up some things after work.”

Michael took the briefest second to process and find his tactful response to this revelation.

“…you’re FUCKING MARRIED! YOU’RE SHITTING ME! YOU!?” Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw the window of the van next to them roll down, and he rolled down his window in turn.

“What’s going on?” Geoff, fluffy moustache and black suit, leaned out of his A-Team Painted Van, twin to Michael and Ryan’s own van.

“The psycho next to me is fucking married!” Michael ran his hands through his brown curls, still trying to process this new info.

“Wat!?” The Brit sitting next to Geoff squawked, leaning forward to look at Michael. “He’s _married!?_ ” Michael could tell the shock on Gavin’s face probably matched his own.

“I fail to see how this is a surprise.” Ryan’s voice was muffled by the teeth of his skull mask. He pulled out his AP pistol, checked that it was loaded, and slipped it back into the holster inside the blue leather jacket. “And there’s our sign.”

Jack had entered the jewelry store, signaling to the men that the store was empty. Geoff and Michael both rolled up their windows and the vans pulled forward, straight towards the store and stopping in a V formation to provide cover. The four men filed out of their vans and through the glass doors. Jack already had her pistol out, focused on the older clerk behind the counter. A younger man in a suit was on the ground, his bloody hands grabbing his knee.

“Hey, guess what I learned about Vagabond?” Michael grinned at Jack, excited about his strange news.

“Not during the job, Mogar.” Ryan smashed open one of the cases and started pulling jewelry into a bag. The others smashed their cases as well, while Jack kept her gun on the clerk.

“Why’d you shoot the other guy?” Gavin asked, walking behind the counter to access the register, not paying attention to the fact that he was standing next to a man who had a gun pointed at him. His slightly unshaven face broke into a grin as he shoveled the loose cash into his bag.

“He kept staring at me.” Jack shrugged. “Heist seems to be going well so far?”

Jack’s question almost seemed to prompt the sirens that started to wail.

“Fuck dude, you jinxed it!” Michael shouted, swiping what was left of the case he was working on into his bag.

“We are for go.” Geoff shouted. “To the vans!” And he sprinted out of the mostly looted store, followed by Gavin. The gangly Brit opened the side door on his van, tossing in his pack, and Geoff leapt in, dropping his bag too. As the other three filed out, they tossed their bags in as well before Gavin shut the door.

Slipping out his pistol, Michael ran around to the passenger seat, and froze as a cop stepped forward, gun trained on him.

“Put your weapon down and get on your hands and knees!” The cop barked. Or he would have if he wasn’t cut off by chunks of his skull smattering the pavement. Michael glanced up to his right, and gave a thumbs up before throwing open the side door and climbed in, followed by Ryan. The door slammed shut, and Jack revved the engine, pulling out and getting behind Geoff’s van which was already starting to amble away. The sirens grew in pitch as they got closer, and through the tinted windows, Michael could make out the red and blue lights as the cops started their pursuit.

“Shall we?” Ryan must have been grinning as he offered Michael a harness, before putting his own on. Michael found the carabiner clip dangling from the reinforced ceiling, and hooked himself up to it, supported by the car. They had done weight tests and the ceiling could hold him completely off the floor if Michael wished it. After Ryan was safely fastened in, both lad and gent armed themselves. Ryan’s foot collided with the rear doors of the van as Michael popped open the side door, leaning out with his rifle.

There was the faint sound of whirring, almost lost under the tires on the road, and the gunfire coming from Gavin, leaning out his window, and the cops shooting out theirs. Michael took aim, and the tires of one cruiser exploded, the sudden friction leading the car to swerve and collide into the barrier on the highway.

Then Ryan happened.

His minigun ripped through the concrete road, pelting the hoods and shattering the windows of the cruisers. The man cackled as the cars exploded behind them, and ahead, Michael could see Gavin pull his head in, no longer needing to protect Geoff’s van and the loot.

“Road block!” Jack shouted, and Michael turned, leaning and aiming ahead while Ryan covered behind. He aimed at the engines of the Los Santos Police SUVs, and let his bullets fly. One SUV exploded, leading to a chain reaction of the SUVs on each side as the cops dove for cover. Michael could still feel the heat radiating as the vans drove through the carnage.

“We got a copter!” Ryan shouted, and Michael dove back in, grabbing his Hawk & Little Homing Launcher. He aimed, and the LSPD Maverick exploded in a glorious fireball, raining down into the streets below. “Another on Jack’s left!”

“Fuck! I can’t get to that side!” Michael shouted, pulling himself back into the van, but Jack was ahead of him.

Grabbing the parking break, Jack swerved, spinning the van 180 degrees, nearly throwing Michael out the open door. She shifted to reverse, and slammed the gas, the van now backwards as Michael took aim at the other Maverick, and dropped it from the sky while Jack spun the van again.

“Third one, bearing on us.” Ryan seemed unfazed by the driving

“Shit.” Michael leaned out, focusing on it. But as it locked on, he lowered it. “Hold fire, it’s Ray.” He pulled himself back into the van, and grabbed his rifle again, leaning out and taking potshots, keeping the attention on their van.

Ahead, at the exit towards Sandy Shores, Geoff’s van pulled away while their own kept going down the coastal highway. Michael kept taking shots, along with Ryan, and above them Ray’s chopper pulled ahead to pick them up at the rendezvous point. Fortunately, the police seemed to be focused on them still.

“What exactly does your wife do?” Michael shouted, the van picking up speed to try to escape.

“She’s a vet.” Ryan shouted back.

“Like, animals and shit?” Michael took another shot. “My girlfriend loves cats, do you think your wife can take a look at all her strays?”

“That’s-” Ryan was cut off by an explosion behind them as a SWAT van blew, flipping into the squad car in front of it, causing another explosion.

“Wait, Ryan has a wife?” Jack shouted from the front seat, before swerving to avoid a car in front of them.

“Can we meet her? We’re technically your coworkers after all.”

Ryan seemed to pause, his head tilting as he kept the trigger down on the minigun.

“Yeah, we can have dinner at your house.” Jack laughed.

Ryan nodded. “You are welcome to have dinner at my house.”

“Spoil it by inviting us.” Michael took out a cruiser that was bearing down, feeling the heat from the explosion again.

“Yeah, you should come to Enchilada Night.”

“Enchilada Night? God, you’re so white.” Jack sighed, and took a hard left between the barriers on the highway. Michael swore as a semi barely slammed into him and the van, and the van leaped off the highway, down to the beach where Ray was waiting, their escape chopper primed and ready.

Jack slammed on the brakes near the helicopter, the sand making the stop slower, while both Michael and Ryan simply cut their harnesses loose and hopped out of the van. A cruiser made the same leap, and both men fired at it while Jack made a beeline to the escape craft, hopping into the cockpit next to Ray and donning her headset.

Michael and Ryan leapt in as Ray started to ascend, buckling themselves in, rifles raised and still firing at the swarm of SWAT that was congregating on the beach. Ray’s beanie clad head bobbed to whatever music he was listening to. Ascending faster, Michael managed to take down another Maverick with just his rifle and Ray made his heading towards the crew penthouse.

If Team G managed to shake any other cops and make it to the Sandy Shores airport, they would be home free, and much richer. Michael relaxed, now that Ray was piloting and taking them higher than the cops would dare venture, and the clouds helped obscure their travel. Ryan relaxed next to him and gave a thumbs up which Michael exhaustedly returned, before reaching into his coat and bringing back out his 3DS, flipping it open and resuming the battle that was interrupted by Ryan’s phone call. He only looked up again as Ray started to speak.

“Oh, hey Ryan. What’s this I hear about you being married?”

* * *

Ryan relaxed, pillows propping him up as he settled into his book, his face clear of his war paint. Only hint of his criminal behaviors being the silver vintage pistol on the bedtable next to him. He was dozing before he knew it, reading glasses sliding off his nose. He awoke only when he became aware of a comfortable, familiar weight next to him.

“Hey honey.” He sat up, taking off his reading glasses and putting them next to the pistol. “How was your day?”

“Normal.” She leaned over, giving him a kiss on the cheek. To his slight disappointment was in thick flannel pajamas. “Did you have fun today?”

“Of course. I even kept a ring for you.” He moved his book, both of them settling into bed before he clicked off the bedside lamp. “Oh, the crew learned I’m married.”

“Are you going to take care of them like the last crew?”

“Nah, pretty sure these guys are different. I’m thinking of inviting them to an Enchilada Night.”

“I suppose that sounds like fun.” She gave him another kiss and he reached out, holding her. “Oh, I checked the fridge when I got home. You forgot to get the chicken.”

“Well, shit.”


End file.
